


Fire over the Tunnel

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale used to work for michael, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Michael Redemption, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: Michael missed Aziraphale. Has for a while now. But it takes an apocalypse (or lack thereof) to come to terms with it and make amends.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Michael (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 166





	Fire over the Tunnel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IsleofSolitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO My GOOD PAL FAYE WHO ALWAYS HAS INTERESTING IDEAS OF WHICH THIS IS ONE

Michael took a steadying breath and opened and closed her hand in a fist by her side. Her other hand held a box of chocolates. She stared at the door in front of her with an intense gaze. She could see through it and her eyes were fixated on the two beings inside. They were sitting on the couch. One was flipping lazily through the channels, and the other was reading a book.

She wanted to get Aziraphale alone to talk. It would be easier that way. Not that it would be easy at all, just not as difficult with Crowley around. And she had waited for a while. A few weeks. She waited and watched and hoped that one day they wouldn’t be joined at the hip. But they seemed to spend all of their time together, even when they weren’t in their little cottage.

Michael closed her eyes, let herself have one more minute of time to worry, and then she knocked on the door.

No one answered it. Michael opened her eyes and looked through the door again. They were gone. She blinked and turned her gaze upwards, looking through the walls of the house. But it seemed they were no longer inside. 

With a sigh Michael walked around to the side, pushing the gate to their garden open and slipping around to the back yard. They were not there either. She huffed and dropped the chocolate, hands on her hips. She could have been able to tell if they had left. But there was no miracle in the air. They had to still be here.

She turned her gaze back to the cottage, looking over and in it again. Then she noticed this empty space. It didn’t seem structurally sound to have a blank area in the middle of a house. The only explanation was it was some kind of room she couldn’t see in. That must be where they were.

Michael entered through the back door. Clearly they knew she was here or they wouldn’t have tried to hide. And really, there was no reason to hide from her. What did they really think she was going to do?

The cottage they had moved into was decorated in a weird clash of tastes that managed to look charming. There were tartan curtains over the windows, but the dishes were dark. The living room had large, lovely plush furniture with blankets and pillows all over, but the walls were nearly empty. 

It was odd, at first glance. But it seemed to work. There was no door that led to whatever room they were hiding in. It was just a wall under the stairs. Michael put her hand over it and could feel the energy of something behind it. A little controlled force and the wall was gone. Revealing an empty crawl space.

An empty crawl space and the lingering feeling of a miracle in the air. They were not in that space, but they were still in the house.

Michael heard the soft rattle of a chain and spun around, catching Crowley’s wrist mid-air, the restraints he had tried to use hanging in the air. Michael was swift, grabbing them with her other hand and pulling down, twisting until Crowley was facing the opposite direction. Then she stepped forward, wrapping the chain around Crowley and pulling it tight, clamping his arms to his side and properly restraining him.

“Did you really think that would work?” she whispered in his ear. 

“Maybe not,” Crowley hissed. He smirked. “But it makes a hell of a distraction.”

Michael looked down at him confused until she felt the sharp tip of a knife press against the bottom of her spine. It was a familiar press, one ages old that shouldn’t still be around. And the presence holding it was one of only a few souls in the universe that could make it.

“Let him go,” Aziraphale growled.

Michael complied. Certainly not because she was afraid of the blade resting against her back, a mere twitch of muscle away from ripping her body apart. She was an archangel after all. Her soul would be fine. But think of the paperwork.

Michael released her hold, sighing as Crowley stepped away, pulling the chains with him. At least he didn’t seem interested in trying to wrap her up anymore. 

“Now get out,” Aziraphale ordered, his words accentuated with anger. “And do not come back.”

Michael knew it looked weak and ridiculous, but she put her hands up, palms out and open. She would have given him the chocolates if they weren’t still out in the yard. “I just want to talk, Aziraphale.”

“So talk,” Aziraphale said.

Michael made the move to start to turn around but the point dug in deeper and she could feel the tug at her soul, halting her movements. “Alone,” she suggested.

“Not a fucking chance,” Crowley told her. He had dropped the chains but he folded his arms now. He was wearing those ridiculous glasses, his eyebrows furrowed over them.

“Anything you have to say to me you can say to Crowley,” Aziraphale confirmed.

Michael sighed and put her arms down. She had expected a fight, of course. But she really had been looking forward to getting the chance to talk to Aziraphale alone. “Very well. I wish to...apologize.”

The blade moved back slightly, still touching but no longer jabbing. “What?”

Michael cleared her throat and put her pride away. Which was never easy. “I came to apologize, Aziraphale.”

“What for?” It was Crowley who asked it. She could tell he was squinting, trying his best to look menacing.

“I don’t believe this conversation concerns you,” she said, giving him her pest prim and proper look. She had perfected it over the years and it really was something to behold. 

“That does depend on what you’re apologizing for,” Aziraphale said.

Michael gestured about and shrugged. “For everything.”

“We’re gonna need specifics here, sweetheart,” Crowley said.

“I don’t recall being in a relationship with you,” she said, trying to make her voice as cold as possible.

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “But I am. So answer him.” The blade pushed back closer. 

Michael let out a little frustrated noise. Truth was, there was so much to apologize for she didn’t know where to start. Might as well start at the beginning. “I’m sorry for letting them transfer you.”

“Huh?” Crowley asked.

But the blade fell away. And Michael figured it was safe to turn around. Aziraphale still had the blade raised, but he looked curious, and maybe, if she let herself hope, open.

“I know that you didn’t want to go to Eden,” she continued. “I should have done more to stop it.”

Aziraphale swallowed, Michael watching the lump in his throat bob. “I didn’t mind Eden.” He smiled softly and looked over at Crowley. “Never would have met Crowley.” Then his smile fell as he looked back at Michael. “It wasn’t being transferred.”

Michael studied him, this not-quite-angel before her. A long time ago he had worked for her. And he had been the best weapons master she knew. Always did the best work in the quickest time. And he was skilled in using what he made. And not only had he been a good worker. But if words had allowed it, he had been a good friend.

“You never visited,” Aziraphale said. And there was an ache in his voice that sent a jolt of electricity straight to Michael’s spine. 

“Did you two like…” Michael did not need to turn around to see the obscene gesture Crowley was making. She ignored him while Aziraphale shook his head.

“I should have,” she agreed. “And I am sorry.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Thank you,” he said. “I forgive you.” She let herself smile. Then the blade was lifted higher, aimed at her chest. “Now leave.”

“I thought you forgave me?”

“For that, yes.”

Michael’s face twitched in confusion. She wasn’t aware of what else there was to be sorry for. That was what had ruined their friendship, what had been weighing on her conscious all those thousands of years.

Aziraphale shook his head, frowning at her confusion. “You also were very rude to me,” he said. “In meetings. And I know you were the one who found those pictures of us and told. And you just stood there when Sandalphon and Uriel...well, when they did what they did.”

Michael deflated. Okay. Maybe there were a few more things she could apologize for. But certainly none of them were so extreme as to demand she leave his little cottage.

“All that I could forgive you for. Bu you...you tried to…” Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley. “You tried to kill Crowley. You delivered the water personally to Hell. You knew...you knew how much...how he and I...how we...and you still…” Aziraphale’s breath became labored and Michael thought it was a bit much. 

Crowley walked over and put a reassuring arm around Aziraphale. “Yeah! So fuck off before we kill you.”

“It wouldn’t kill her,” Aziraphale corrected, looking at him. The blade shivered in the air as his arm shook. “Just discorporate her.”

“I’m trying to be threatening, angel,” he hissed.

Aziraphale nodded and turned back to Michael, face hard. “What he said.”

Michael opened her mouth but she wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Because she hadn't known. None of them knew. After all. It wasn’t like demons could love. Or so they thought. Honestly, who would think that? Aziraphale, apparently.

Aziraphale, who had once been her closest friend and most trusted confidant. Aziraphale who had always done his job with a smile and yet was never willing to back down from a challenge. Aziraphale who was so devoted to his job of protecting humanity that he went against The Almighty and Her plan. Aziraphale, who know stood before her, leaning into a demon’s embrace, and threatening her with a blade made specifically to harm angels. A blade she had taught him to make. A blade he had made for her.

Michael nodded. She had hoped to be able to make amends. But even she knew that that was a pipe dream. Aziraphale truly had gone native. He was no longer her friend, and, with a heart shattering realization she should have had ages ago, Michael realized that he never would be again. 

She cleared her throat, denying the sting at her eyes. “Very well then. I said what I came to say. Good bye.”

She turned to leave, very aware of the blade following her out. She traced her steps back to the back door, taking in the view of a life she would not be allowed to be a part of. A life she had let go. 

“Michael,” Aziraphale said, walking her out to the middle of the garden, to where she could return to heaven carefully. “I...appreciate your efforts.”

Michael nearly laughed. Perfectly diplomatic. Just as Aziraphale always was. She caught the glimmer of the box on the floor and bent down, dusting off the chocolates before presenting them to him. “I know you like these human delicacies. I thought perhaps…” she didn’t want to imply that she had tried to buy him. “I’d still like for you to have them.”

Aziraphale took them and smiled. “Thank you,” he said. 

She stared at his eyes, and behind them she could see the soul that she had once known so well. And it was the same soul. Just a little more confident, a little more sure. But it was still the Aziraphale that Michael knew. And as he smiled at her, blade resting comfortably by her side. She had a feeling she would get the chance to know him again.


End file.
